


Dragon Age Drabbles

by QueenoftheProcrastination



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Clothed Sex, Drabble Collection, Drunk Kisses, Drunkenness, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fake Marriage, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Marriage Proposal, Pregnancy, Secrets, Semi-Public Sex, Stargazing, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-24
Updated: 2015-05-08
Packaged: 2018-03-25 12:06:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 3,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3809782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenoftheProcrastination/pseuds/QueenoftheProcrastination
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Where my collects of Dragon Age Drabbles (as submitted on Tumblr) go. Currently featuring: Cullen/F!Trevelyan, Solavellan, Alistair/F!Cousland, and Anders/FemHawke.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hey, have you seen the...oh! (Cullen/Trevelyan)

“Hey, have you seen the…? Oh.” Cullen stopped short when he saw the look on the Inquisitor’s face. “Are you alright?”

She stood in the middle of her quarters, hands clutching a piece of parchment hard enough that it was crumpled into a little ball. Her eyes were screwed shut and her skin looked pallid. He normally wouldn’t have intruded in her private chambers, but the reports from Reylen had gone missing and he needed to look them over today. All of that, however, flew out of his head when Cullen saw how distraught she looked. 

Hearing his voice, she snapped her eyes open and took a deep breathe. “Commander? What are you–I mean, I’m fine. I’ll be fine.”

She took another deep breathe, the exhale shaky. “Oh hell, no I’m not fine. My  _father_  is coming to Skyhold.”

Hand trembling, she smoothed out the letter in her hands and held it out to him. Cullen closed the space between them in a few long strides and took the parchment. 

_Dearest daughter,_

_I was so please to hear about your elevation as Inquisitor. Perhaps now would be a good time to pay you a visit. We’ve had_ so many _inquires about your well being since news of the Conclave. The Duke himself has asked after you, often. But we will discuss this when I arrive._

_HT_

Cullen raised his eyebrows as he read, and glanced up at Elena’s stricken face when he was done. 

“I’m afraid I don’t–”

She groaned and hid her face behind her hands. “It’s all right there. He wants me to marry the Duke of Ostwick. Oh, Cullen, I  _can’t_. The Duke is sixty years old and gouty!”

He felt a flutter deep in his chest as she said his name. In truth, the thought of the Herald forcibly wed to this Duke (well, to  _anyone_ ) made him shake with anger. He closed the remaining distance between them, and gently pulled her hands from her face, holding them between his own. 

“I won’t let that happen, Inquisitor. I’m sure Josephine has a stack of proposals for you; we could always say you’ve already accepted one of them.”

She shook her head.

“It wouldn’t matter if I’ve already accepted a proposal from the Archon himself. My father would insist on being part of the negotiations. I’d have to already be married to get out of this!” She cried bitterly. 

Cullen cocked his head to the side, mulling over her words. A tightness grew in his chest as an idea formed. As much as he tried to keep such feelings at bay, he cared for her. He didn’t know if she returned his feelings–if she ever could–but in some ways it didn’t matter;. He would do whatever it took to make her happy. 

“I…I could be your husband,” he ventured softly. “While your father is here, I mean.”

She looked up at him, bright eyes wide and, perhaps, shining with hope. “You’d do that, for me?”

Cullen felt a crooked grin lift at the corner of his lips. “Of course, Inquisitor.”

“Elena,” she corrected, a smile finally lighting up her face. “If you’re to be my husband, you should call me by my name.”


	2. Tell Me a Secret (Solavellan)

“Tell me a secret,” she whispered, her soft voice breaking the silence. 

Solas tilted his head up, arm coming to wrap around her shoulders as she rested her head against his side. They were sitting atop the mages’ tower of Skyhold, the vast night sky spread before them. 

She leaned into him, happy to have him there; this was all so new–different than the flirtations with the men of her clan. He was so  _worldly_. Yes, that was the word for it, and she wanted to know more–more about him, yes, but about Thedas, and history,and magic, and their people. She wanted to know everything he could tell her. Everything and more. 

“I’ve told you all of my secrets,” he said after a long pause.

Lavellan tossed her head back, the shine of her hair catching the starlight, and laughed. “Fine, keep your secrets then. I’ll tell you one of mine.”

“Oh? Is that so?” He asked, turning to her and lifting her chin towards him with gentle fingers. “And what would that be?”

She smiled, bright eyes falling to his lips. They looked nice,  _soft_. She knew from experience that they were. Soft and warm and gentle. 

“How about you give me a kiss first.”

A deep, rich chuckled rumbled through his chest. “I believe you were the one who wished to discuss secrets. Now you’re extorting kisses to divulge them?”

She pouted, “so you  _won’t_ kiss me?”

Solas sighed and let his hand drift down the length of her arm to rest against her hip. “What if I kiss you after you tell me your secret? Do we have a bargain?”

Cocking her head to the side, Lavellan pretended to contemplate his offer. “I suppose those terms are acceptable.”

He smiled down at her, moonlight catching his pale gaze. She returned his look, taking the moment to marvel at the fact that she had found him amidst all this chaos and madness. If it wasn’t for him, she wasn’t sure she would have gotten this far. 

“I love you,” she whispered, eyes dropping to look at her hands, tentative to see his reaction. 

Her words hung in the air around them, infusing the cool mountain air with warmth. After a long moment, she felt the soft brush of lips across her cheek. 

“Look at me, vhenan,” he breathed. 

Raising her eyes, she gazed at him through the fan of her lashes. Solas smiled at her, a sad smile that ran deep. The hand at her chin moved along her jaw until he was cupping her face, thumb brushing along the sensitive point of her ear. Slowly, he bent his head, until his lips captured hers. 

Lavellan sighed, eyes sliding shut as his mouth moved against hers, parting her lips with his tongue. Heat licked down her throat, spreading through her veins until she felt as if she were composed of starlight, shining, glimmering,  _bright_. 

Slowly, he pulled away, resting his forehead against her own. 

“Tell me a secret,” she whispered.

“Ar lath, ma vhenan. Abelas, ar lath.”


	3. You're The Only One I Trust To Do This (Alistair/Cousland)

“You’re the only one I trust to do this, Alistair,” Elissa Cousland whispered, eyes screwed shut in pain. 

She lay on the ground, a darkspawn arrow sticking out of her shoulder. It had managed to slip right between the layers of her armor during their skirmish. Wynne could heal the wound, but the arrow shaft needed to be pulled out first. 

Alistair winced, “me? Are you sure?”

“Well, Prince doesn’t have thumbs,” she muttered, the ghost of a smile hovering in the corners of her mouth. 

Alistair glanced at the usually slobbery Mabari where he lay against his mistress’ side, head resting on her knee. The dog gave a small whine when he heard his name. 

“Alright, alright,” Alistair murmured, kneeling down and bracing his palm against her shoulder. “I’m a prince too, you know.”

With that he  _yanked._ The arrow slid out with a wet noise, rich red blood welling up in the wound. She convulsed underneath his touch, hands scrambling in the dirt at her side. 

“Son of a bitch!” Elissa shouted. “Ow. Shit. Maferath, Andraste, and the Maker that hurt!”

Wynne gently pushed Alistair out of the way, the warm glow of healing magic already alight between her fingers. Elissa’s curses quieted as the magic knit her flesh back together, leaving only dark red blood stains on her armor. She would be fine, Wynne would see to that.

Hours later back at camp, Alistair sat down next to Elissa as she gazed into the fire, her face fixed in a blank expression. 

“How’s the shoulder?” He asked, touching her elbow lightly. 

She gave him a tight smile, finally drawing out of her reverie, “sore, but I’ll live.”

They sat quietly together for a moment, knees touching, perhaps listening to the sounds of their camp mates going about the evening, or perhaps lost in thought. After a moment, Elissa turned to him.

“I meant what I said earlier, you know. I do trust you,” she looked down at her hands for a moment, a blush creeping across her cheeks. “With my life.”

Alistair grinned, speechless. What was he supposed to say when a woman like her–beautiful, strong, confident–said something like that to  _him._ No one trusted him with anything; well, Duncan had, but this,  _she_ , was different.  _I trust you with my life_. She sounded so hesitant, frighten, even to say it out loud. Like she was revealing a great vulnerability. 

“Well, that’s a risky decision,” he joked, then paused, voice softening. “But I’ll do my best to prove your trust well founded.”

Seconds slipped by before Alistair worked up the courage to lean over and take her hand. It was tiny compared to his, but her fingers fit nicely between his own. 

“I trust you too,” he whispered, squeezing her hand gently. “With my life.”


	4. Can I Kiss You?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen x F!Trevelyan

“Can I kiss you?” 

Cullen jerked his head up from his ale, gaze snapping towards the woman at his side. Maker’s breath, where had all their companions gone? They hadn’t been alone a moment ago. Lady Trevelyan sat with her body angled towards him, her head propped on an elbow. She was gazing at him, her bright eyes soft and desirous. 

He cleared his throat, “Pardon, I don’t think I heard–”

She leaned forward a little, cupping his face and brushing her thumb just below his bottom lip. The little contact made him shiver, as a gentle tingle alighted under his skin where she touched him. 

“I asked if could I kiss you?” She repeated, moving close to him along the bench until he could feel the warmth of her body against his own.

“Maker’s breath, Elena,” he stuttered, looking around nervously to see if anyone was watching them.

How many times had he imagined this? Kissing her? Holding her in his arms? But she was the Herald of Andraste, for Maker’s sake. If people saw them–he didn’t want a stain on her honor for the sake of his own desires. They were, luckily, tucked away in an alcove on the second floor of the Herald’s Rest, instead of their usual table in the main room, so prying eyes were scarce. 

“You have nice lips,” she murmured, once again running her thumb along his bottom lip. “I like watching you speak, especially when you say my name.”

Her words sent a wave of desire crashing over him. How long had he ached to her hear speak to him so? Cullen was torn between pulling her onto his lap and kissing senseless or politely pointing out that she’d had rather a lot to drink and they were in public. Her thumb moved to trace the scar at this mouth. 

“I imagine your scar would feel nice while kissing you,” she continued, her voice breathy and soft. 

He sighed, eyes fluttering closed, and leaned into her touch.  _On-lookers be damned, honor be damned,_ he though.Cullen pulled her onto him, wrapping one arm around her waist and cradled the back of her neck with his other hand. She gasped, surprised at his sudden response, but he leaned down, crashing his lips to hers before she could say anything.

Kissing Elena was everything he imagined and more. She was soft and warm in his hands, and her lips moved like silk across his own. She sighed, coaxing his mouth open along with hers, her little tongue darting past his lips. One of her hands clutched his face, while the other tangled in his curls, tugging just hard enough to make him moan. He bit down on her bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth and she shivered in his arms. 

Slowly, they pulled apart, exchanging soft, chaste kisses as they did so. Elena was grinning, cheeks flushed and lips kiss-swollen. Cullen imagined he looked much the same. 

“I, ah…that was,” he stumbled, trying to find something to say. “That was nice.”

She chuckled and sat up a little so that she was more firmly in his lap, her body pressing into his own. “Yes it was.”

“You should ask to kiss me more often,” he said, surprised at his own boldness. 

Elena gave him a radiant smile in response, before leaning forward, lips hovering a hair’s breadth from his own. “Yes, I should.”

Cullen growled, and closed the gap between them. 


	5. Do You Think We Should Just Stop?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen x F!Trevelyan (NSFW)

“Do you think we should just stop?” Cullen whispered into her ear, his voice low to avoid detection, his body curving around hers, shielding her from wandering eyes. 

Elena shivered and scrambled to grip his shoulders tighter, nails digging into skin through his tunic. Pleasure throbbed through her body as he pounded into her. 

“Don’t you dare,” she managed to pant out, more a breathy moan than actual words. 

Cullen chuckled, and shifted his grip on her naked thighs, pinning her more securely between the stone wall and his muscular body. With sharp, hard thrusts, he drove into her, his cock filling her to the hilt. The library was silent around them, save for the shuffling of the guards’ feet on the stairs. Maker this was a terrible idea, but she was too far gone in her pleasure to care. 

Elena tilted her head against the stone, arching her back so that her breasts pressed tantalizingly towards his mouth. Keeping one hand firmly at her hip, he cupped a heavy breast, sucking her pert pink nipple into his mouth. A breathy moan escaped tore through her throat before she had the good sense to cover her lips. Cullen groaned as he ravaged her, the image of her stifling her cries and eyes fluttering shut sending a firestorm of lust rippling through his body. 

With a playful nip at her hard bud, he released her breast and kissed his way up her chest and neck, teeth fastening onto her ear. 

“The guards have walked by us twice,” he murmured, giving two hard thrusts to emphasizes his words. “Shall I make you come before they pass us again? Make you scream out so they know we’re here,  _fucking_  where anyone could see us?”

“Maker, Cullen,” she whimpered. “ _Yes_.”

He bent his knees, angling himself so that his cock pressed tightly against her walls, each powerful drive of his hips sending her sliding up the rough stone until she slid back down his hard, throbbing length. She could barely catch her breath, barely  _see_ but for the storm of pleasure that coursed through her, blooming bright and hot each time he sheathed himself inside of her aching center.

Her unraveling came upon her, wave after wave of burning pleasure crashing through her. She pitched forward, screaming into the crook of his neck to muffle the sound. Cullen crushed her against him, holding her up so that he could continue his onslaught. Elena clawed at his back, scratching through fabric and skin as she squeezed around his cock, the world falling away around them. With a strangled cry, the warmth of his seed filled her, his hips slowing their hard pace. 

Chests heaving as they both struggled to regain their breath, Cullen set her down gently, one hand staying at her waist to make sure she was stable. Her skirts fluttered to the floor, and he quickly began lacing up the front of her gown. Elena tugged his trousers back over his hips, making him decent.  

He grinned, cupping her cheek as he pressed a slow, open mouthed kiss to her lips, his tongue sliding into her mouth and tangling with hers. Elena sighed into him, her hand coming to rest over his heart. 

“I do believe I should ask you to help me reach things on high shelves more often,” she murmured. 

Before he could reply, the metallic clink of armor reached their ears. 

“Commander! Inquisitor!” two night patrols saluted, clearly started to see Elena and Cullen in the dark and empty library. 

The expressions on their faces were priceless. Though Elena managed not to laugh until she and her lover were safely back behind her bedroom door. 


	6. You Can't Protect Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen x F!Trevelyan

“Cullen,” she laugh, one hand absently rubbing her slightly rounded stomach. “You can’t always protect me.”

Cullen threw her a glare as he paced across the room. She couldn’t help but laugh at his fearsome expression. He stopped short, his cheeks burning red. 

“You find this funny?” He said, exasperated and running his fingers roughly through his hair. 

Elena shook her head, finding him more sweet that anything. Still chuckling, she made her way over to him and pressed her hand to his cheek. 

“Fatherhood suits you, my lion.”

He sighed, still glaring and not quite ready to relent. “I don’t want you going into the field in your  _condition_.”

Elena couldn’t say she was surprised. Cullen had always been protective and she had known the moment she’d realized she was carrying his child he would be doubly so. Not that she minded–it was endearing to say the least. It had been a long time since she’d had anyone to worry about her. And truth be told, he did have a point; she shouldn’t be out in the field. 

A soft smile playing at her lips, she stood on the tips of her toes and brushed a chaste kiss against his mouth.

 “I’ll make you a deal, I’ll be careful and limit my excursions from Skyhold to only diplomatic trips, if you promise to have some faith in me,” she whispered. 

Cullen  frowned and pulled her close, his hands running along her back, sending shivers down her spine. She could tell her words were soothing and that he was considering her offer.

“I simply worry about you–about both of you,” he murmured, .

His touching words made her grin. Elena nuzzled against Cullen’s neck and trailed kissed along the underside of his jaw. Her heartbeat racing as she felt the hitch in his breath at her actions. Her fingers worked slowly at the buckles on his armor as his hands tightened along her waist. She knew she had him convinced, or nearly so. Before she could continue her lips’ path down his neck, Cullen swept her into his arms. 

“What’s this, Commander?” She laughed, holding him close. 

“I haven’t made any promises yet, my lady Herald,” he rumbled, striding towards their bed. “But perhaps we can take these negotiations to a more comfortable location.”


	7. It Wasn't Supposed To Happen Like That

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alistair x F!Cousland

“It just…it wasn’t support to happen like that!” Alistair snapped. 

Elissa froze in place, her hand hanging in the air halfway between their bodies. She didn’t know if she should touch him, though Maker she wanted to. She wanted to sooth the lines that had appeared across his forehead and between his eyes. 

“I’m sorry, Alistair. It was–I’m sorry.”

Alistair sighed, the anger deflating out of him as his shoulders slumped. He sat down at the wooden table next to the fireplace in his room–where he had dragged her after the Landsmeet. Taking a deep breath, he looked up at her. 

“Just tell me, Elie, to you actually want to marry me? Or did you say…why did you say it?”

Elissa’s heart broke just a little at the crack of emotion in his voice. Her sweet Alistair, who never thought himself worthy of love no matter how badly he craved it. She wanted to spend the rest of her life showing him just how deserving he was. 

 “Oh, Alistair,” she murmured. She reached for him, cupping his cheek so she could lift his face. “I love you…but I’d understand if you don’t want to go through with this. I sprung marriage on you, in front of all of Ferelden. It wasn’t fair and I’d understand–” she stopped, her voice breaking at the thought of him breaking things off. 

“Maker, no!” exclaimed, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling him into his lap. 

Elissa’s hand rested against his chest where she could feel his heart hammering wildly. One of his large hands covered her own, squeezing gently. 

“It wasn’t supposed to happen like that, you know,” Alistair murmured, sliding his hand up her neck to cup her face. “I was going to give you roses and make jokes about darkspawn.”

She rested her forehead against his, her heart giving a flutter in her chest. “You were planning to propose?” 

He grinned, “well, I  _was_  until someone beat me to it.”

The mood had shifted gently; his anger seemed to have abated and Elissa dared to hope that this might turn out well. 

“So where does this leave us?” She asked.

“King and Queen of Ferelden, I suppose. Though one archdemon might have something to say about that,” he chuckled, before his voice went soft. “I love you, you know that right?”

Elissa smiled in response, and pressed her lips to his, her worries melting away with the gentle pressure of his mouth. Alistair tangled his fingers in the hair at the nape of he neck as he kissed her back. Yes, everything would be alright, as long as she had him. 


	8. A Goofy Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anders x FemHawke

Hawke snickered and took another swig of her ale. She was perched on one of the tables in Anders’ clinic, watching the mage while he sorted through his potion ingredients. 

“Com’on Anders, come to the Hanged Man with me. Isabella promised she’d teach me that trick with the pomegranate,” she pleaded, swinging her legs back and forth in the air. 

Anders glanced over his shoulder at her and scowled. “So go to the Hanged Man. I’ve got work to do.”

Hawke pouted, “but I want to hang out with  _all_  of my friends tonight. Cranky mages included.”

“I am  _not_ —”He started, before clenching his jaw shut and taking a deep breath. “Hawke, you know I can’t just drop all this,” he waved vaguely around the room. “I have responsibilities.”

It was Hawke’s turn to scowl. Drawing herself up, she fixed an overly solemn expression on her face, and pressed her palm to her heart, other hand resting on her slightly cocked hip. “I’m Anders, I can’t possibly have fun. I’m too busy being dark and mysterious, and broody and sexy. Silly Hawke, don’t you know that?”

She jumped off the table and walked slowly to where he stood. The expression on Anders’ face was priceless as he swung between struggling not to laugh at her antics and being angry from her mocking him. A slow smirk spread over her face as she approached him. She reached out and ruffled the feathers of his pauldrons. 

“ _Hawke_ ,” he warned, gripping her shoulders and stopping her from taking another step forward to whatever mischief she had in mind. 

“Oh, cheer up,” she grinned. “Didn’t you catch the part where I said you were sexy?”

“You are the most infuriating women I have ever met,” the edge in his voice was mitigated by the the blush spreading over his cheeks. 

Arching up on the balls of her feet, Hawke brushed a soft kiss over the bridge of his nose. 

“That’s why you love me,” she winked, spinning out of his grip and sashaying towards the door. 

Anders stood, rooted to the spot and jaw slightly agape as he watched her go.  _What a woman._


End file.
